GE to Sara Sophia Hennell, London, [23 August 1863]
Title
GE to Sara Sophia Hennell, London, [23 August 1863]
Title
GE to Sara Sophia Hennell, London, [23 August 1863]
Sender
George Eliot
Recipient
Sara Sophia Hennell
Date(s)
- 1863-08-23
Place
London
Letter Content
GE to Sara Sophia Hennell, London, [23 August 1863]
MS: Coventry City Libraries. Envelope: Miss Hennell | 3 Barr's Hill Terrace | Coventry. Postmark: LONDON-N.W | 10 | AU 24 | 63. Hitherto unpublished.
Blandford Sq. | Sunday.
Dear Sara
I confess it was a relief to me to know how you have been occupied this last month, 188 for I had begun to fear that your silence meant bad health or bad spirits -- if the two are separable. I can well understand that you are weary -- what weariness can I not understand, when I am often, from bodily languor, weary even of blessings?
You must get to the sea. I had a week of the breezes at Worthing, and came back last Tuesday with new courage to the inevitable town life. I never needed, never yearned after, a long holiday of travel, as I do now, but a complication of circumstances, half of them important duties, are likely to forbid our getting away even in the Autumn. One is ashamed to talk of denials which would cut up into luxuries for a dozen of one's neighbours, and whenever I grumble I feel that the disposition to grumble is my worst misfortune.
You are right in saying that Romola is ideal 189 -- I feel it acutely in the reproof my own soul is constantly getting from the image it has made. My own books scourge me.
I value very much your assurance that you are "satisfied." The various strands of thought I had to work out forced me into a more ideal treatment of Romola than I had foreseen at the outset -- though the "Drifting away" and the Village with the Plague 190 belonged to my earliest vision of the story and were by deliberate forecast adopted as romantic and symbolical elements.
A very deep delight, which I think you will share with me, has come to me in the (to me) unexampled beauty of Frederick Maurice's conduct towards me. I should think there are very few men living who would do just as fine a thing as he did in writing a certain letter which you shall see some time. I don't like the thing talked about, because it seems as if I cared to tell it for my own glorification, and I can say quite genuinely that I rejoice more in the deed itself than in the fact that my personality is concerned in it. I think everything we admire profoundly has that sort of effect. The contemplation of whatever is great is itself religion and lifts us out of our egoism. The pity of it is that one perpetually sinks back behind the dust-heaps, seeing nothing great. -- Mr. Maurice's sister, the widow of Julius Hare, long imprisoned in her room by terrible chest ailments and loss of voice has also written to me with womanly tenderness.
These things entre nous. I tell them you because I know you feel an interest in certain relations between conduct and religious belief which have been much urged on my notice by the experience of the last eight years.
Of course you have been interested in the picture of "Mr. Buckle in the East" given in Fraser -- and have noticed Mr. Glennie's letter, 'e0 propos of it, in this week's Athenaeum. 191 And perhaps you have felt inclined, as I have, to be a little impatient at the "fuss" made about Renan's book, as well as Colenso's doings, by an English public which supposes that these men are finding out new heresies. However, such impatience is unreasonable.
We have had much disappointment and anxiety from Thornie's failure in passing his examination. His colleagues in failure have agitated and got up a memorial to Sir Charles Wood against the injustice done them in making the examination final (contrary to precedent) after it was too late for them to take an additional year for study before passing the initiatory examination last year. There is strong confidence that the memorial will succeed, and if so, we hope Thornie will be prevailed on to "go at" his Sanscrit and Law again for another year.
Bertie is also at home now, awaiting a destination, or rather a preparation for one, probably in a Scotch family where he will learn farming. Over and above these delays and difficulties, we have the prospect of moving into our new house -- I fear, not till after the beginning of October.
Such is our life just now. A little while ago, I felt ill, and exaggerated these small crosses. But now I am stronger and perceive how little I have really to bear, how much I have to enjoy.
A letter from Mrs. Congreve last night told me that Mr. Congreve's troublesome pains have returned, making them dread the winter. A sad sequel to his hard work at medical study. I am expecting news of Cara's book -- though probably it will not now be published till November. Love to all.
Your affectionate
Pollian.
I think the most about the last page of your letter, though I have written nothing about it. That sketch of a life's experience is painfully true.
MS: Coventry City Libraries. Envelope: Miss Hennell | 3 Barr's Hill Terrace | Coventry. Postmark: LONDON-N.W | 10 | AU 24 | 63. Hitherto unpublished.
Blandford Sq. | Sunday.
Dear Sara
I confess it was a relief to me to know how you have been occupied this last month, 188 for I had begun to fear that your silence meant bad health or bad spirits -- if the two are separable. I can well understand that you are weary -- what weariness can I not understand, when I am often, from bodily languor, weary even of blessings?
You must get to the sea. I had a week of the breezes at Worthing, and came back last Tuesday with new courage to the inevitable town life. I never needed, never yearned after, a long holiday of travel, as I do now, but a complication of circumstances, half of them important duties, are likely to forbid our getting away even in the Autumn. One is ashamed to talk of denials which would cut up into luxuries for a dozen of one's neighbours, and whenever I grumble I feel that the disposition to grumble is my worst misfortune.
You are right in saying that Romola is ideal 189 -- I feel it acutely in the reproof my own soul is constantly getting from the image it has made. My own books scourge me.
I value very much your assurance that you are "satisfied." The various strands of thought I had to work out forced me into a more ideal treatment of Romola than I had foreseen at the outset -- though the "Drifting away" and the Village with the Plague 190 belonged to my earliest vision of the story and were by deliberate forecast adopted as romantic and symbolical elements.
A very deep delight, which I think you will share with me, has come to me in the (to me) unexampled beauty of Frederick Maurice's conduct towards me. I should think there are very few men living who would do just as fine a thing as he did in writing a certain letter which you shall see some time. I don't like the thing talked about, because it seems as if I cared to tell it for my own glorification, and I can say quite genuinely that I rejoice more in the deed itself than in the fact that my personality is concerned in it. I think everything we admire profoundly has that sort of effect. The contemplation of whatever is great is itself religion and lifts us out of our egoism. The pity of it is that one perpetually sinks back behind the dust-heaps, seeing nothing great. -- Mr. Maurice's sister, the widow of Julius Hare, long imprisoned in her room by terrible chest ailments and loss of voice has also written to me with womanly tenderness.
These things entre nous. I tell them you because I know you feel an interest in certain relations between conduct and religious belief which have been much urged on my notice by the experience of the last eight years.
Of course you have been interested in the picture of "Mr. Buckle in the East" given in Fraser -- and have noticed Mr. Glennie's letter, 'e0 propos of it, in this week's Athenaeum. 191 And perhaps you have felt inclined, as I have, to be a little impatient at the "fuss" made about Renan's book, as well as Colenso's doings, by an English public which supposes that these men are finding out new heresies. However, such impatience is unreasonable.
We have had much disappointment and anxiety from Thornie's failure in passing his examination. His colleagues in failure have agitated and got up a memorial to Sir Charles Wood against the injustice done them in making the examination final (contrary to precedent) after it was too late for them to take an additional year for study before passing the initiatory examination last year. There is strong confidence that the memorial will succeed, and if so, we hope Thornie will be prevailed on to "go at" his Sanscrit and Law again for another year.
Bertie is also at home now, awaiting a destination, or rather a preparation for one, probably in a Scotch family where he will learn farming. Over and above these delays and difficulties, we have the prospect of moving into our new house -- I fear, not till after the beginning of October.
Such is our life just now. A little while ago, I felt ill, and exaggerated these small crosses. But now I am stronger and perceive how little I have really to bear, how much I have to enjoy.
A letter from Mrs. Congreve last night told me that Mr. Congreve's troublesome pains have returned, making them dread the winter. A sad sequel to his hard work at medical study. I am expecting news of Cara's book -- though probably it will not now be published till November. Love to all.
Your affectionate
Pollian.
I think the most about the last page of your letter, though I have written nothing about it. That sketch of a life's experience is painfully true.
Signature
Pollian.
Citation
George Eliot, GE to Sara Sophia Hennell, London, [23 August 1863], Complete George Eliot Letters(2026), George Eliot Archive, edited by Beverley Park Rilett. https://GeorgeEliotArchive.org, Accessed September 7, 2026. https://www.georgeeliotarchive.org/items/show/93955